Rivalry
by Little Miss Writing Prodigy
Summary: TWO-SHOT Neither of them had expected to spend their night being utterly devoured by their self-proclaimed arch-nemesis when getting out of bed that day. Shizaya
1. Chapter 1

Heiwajima Shizuo hated Orihara Izaya.

The flea was trouble. Complete, unadulterated trouble. He was sadistic, manipulative and twisted in every sense of the word. He claimed to love humans, claimed to like watching them interact because they were interesting, but Shizuo had no doubt that his apparent 'love' for mankind had a much deeper, much sinister meaning hidden behind it.

The man was everything Shizuo had ever despised in his entire life.

Izaya worked like his switch. Just by merely being near him the bartender-clad blond could feel his heart pulsing- and not in the good way either. Everytime Izaya made an appearance or opened his mouth, Shizuo's heart, body and soul filled with complete and utter loathing. At those moments, he could feel nothing but pure hatred for the info broker.

Bearing so much negativity probably wasn't healthy, and Shizuo didn't doubt that Shinra probably would have a thing or two to say about that, but hell, was anything he ever did considered _healthy?_

And then again, harboring so much hate for just one person might turn out to be a fairly good thing for someone like Shizuo. He had so much pent-up aggression and anger, letting it all out on sight of the flea would relief him of the tension. After all, it wouldn't be a good thing if all of that stored up energy just gave way and exploded all of a sudden.

So yes, Heiwajima Shizuo hated Orihara Izaya. It was unhealthy, it was healthy; it was _normal._

But, if that really was the case, could someone please explain to him why, _why_ the bastard was currently straddling his hips and devouring his mouth like his life depended on it?

Alcohol probably played a huge part in it. Izaya had already been fairly tipsy by the time the monstrosity - as Izaya liked to call him - had caught sight of him. Tom had dragged him off to a nightclub; apparently one of his clients had been slacking on his payment and was in dire need of some... _negotiation._ Shizuo didn't really care, he hated violence, yes, but blowing off some steam was always a plus. The general feel and atmosphere of the nightclub had managed to work into his brain though, and it had inevitably ended with Shizuo downing a few relatively strong drinks himself.

It was a pretty secluded place; one meant only for the slickest of weasels and most cunning of snakes in Ikebukuro. A description that fit Izaya perfectly. That, paired with the mass amount of 'interesting people' residing in this building should've been enough of a clue for him to figure out that his single most hated enemy should be near. This whole place practically _screamed_ Izaya. Drug dealing, illegal trafficking, prostitution, spouses being unfaithful and having an affair with some hooker or escort in their lap in the corner. Shizuo could only imagine this to be the flea's perfect little playground.

And yet, it was only after he had ripped the bar desk off the wall and tossed it through the large white double doors in a fit of anger- taking decent-sized chunks of the wall with it -that he'd spotted the familiar white-furred black coat. Izaya was sitting at one of the tables, palm resting against his cheek as he watched with that fond, twisted and utterly _infuriating_ smile of his. From the looks of it, he'd been here a while now, of course he had. The way he was watching also gave off the feeling that he'd known of Shizuo's presence this entire time, and from the way his red eyes caught Shizuo's own and his lips only spread into an even wider grin, Shizuo's suspicions were proven to be correct.

The blond could only see red, and Shizuo wasn't going to lie, he knew he should probably try and calm himself.

But the fucker was smirking at him, his gaze holding that everlasting condescending glint in them and it just _pissed him off._ He'd already finished the job anyway, surely Tom wouldn't mind if he took a small break for a round of obligatory murder.

 _"Izaaayyyyaaaa!"_

The roar echoed throughout the entire club, many of its visitors either running for the exit or scrambling to hide in whatever they thought to be a safe place. If they hadn't run off when Shizuo had first started destroying things, that is.

But Izaya didn't do anything of the sort, merely cringed in a manner that was all too sarcastic and continued to stir his drink with the hand that wasn't occupied; smile only stretching. Shizuo hadn't noticed the drink before, probably because whenever the pest showed his face, everything else would be reduced to mere background decoration.

Shizuo turned, tearing off one of the metal stools attached to the floor, the bolts and screws snapping and coming undone as he did so. He lifted the makeshift projectile over his head, veins popping and bulging in his right temple.

Izaya fished a lone cherry out of his drink and popped it into his mouth, holding it by the stem. His red eyes gleamed dangerously as he held it there, sucking on the fruit for up to three seconds while maintaining eye contact. Shizuo growled, he smirked.

Finally, the blond snapped and tossed the chair, not bothering to check if it would hit anyone other than the world's biggest annoyance. The stool flew over at top speed, heading straight for the head of black that was still calmly sitting at his table. Izaya waited, cherry still in his mouth, and watched as the projectile thrown with deadly accuracy and deadly intentions only came closer, and closer, and closer...

Izaya spit the cherry pit into his recently emptied glass and jumped to the side at blinding speed; the stool only missing him by just a hair and it _pissed. Shizuo. Off._

Stupid, athletic, cunning, quick on his feet flea. He wasn't allowed to pull shit like that, the only thing he was allowed to do in this world and the next was just sit still and let his irritating ass _be killed._

But, of course, that could never be nothing more than wishful thinking when it came to Orihara Izaya.

With another loud, enraged growl, Shizuo stormed after him like a bull kept in containment for far too long. He could feel his veins throbbing in his head, and he was pretty sure a few had already popped and were causing internal bleedings simply due to the sheer amount of anger Shizuo felt at that moment. His knuckles had whitened from the strain of ripping ridiculously heavy or sturdy objects from their posts, and he was pretty sure that it would start to leave bruises once all the adrenaline had worn off. He wouldn't feel the pain though- of course he wouldn't. The days of pain and broken bones were long since over, and as much as he didn't like admitting to it; Izaya's claims of his monstrous roots may just be a lot more accurate than he wanted to acknowledge.

He could hear the flea's laughs and taunts and "Shizu-chan!" as he chased after him, and it only served to piss him off more.

In hindsight, that was probably exactly what Izaya had been aiming for.

By now, every person that had been smart enough had fled the scene. The genius ones had already left the second they'd noticed Izaya and Shizuo present in the same club, with alcohol in their systems. Now, of course the both of them could hold their liquor pretty damn well. Shizuo was too much of a monster-caveman-beast- _whatever_ to get intoxicated by something as simple as cheap booze. And Izaya had far too much tricks up his sleeve to get done in by a couple of drinks.

But the both of them had tossed back quite a lot, with Izaya getting the shorter end of the stick by far. The both of them were already starting to feel a bit tipsy, Izaya already strolling dangerously close to the border separating tipsy from downright drunk. Of course, the high amounts of adrenaline was making their bodies burn through the alcohol much faster than it usually would, but it was pretty safe to say that the both of them were a bit more out of it than they usually would be.

Which was probably exactly why Shizuo had managed to catch him so quickly.

With an audible bark, Shizuo tossed a pillar he had previously ripped from one of the bar stands. Izaya dodged, but miscalculated and ended up tripping over a stray piece of rubble that had ended on the floor after the blond's first outburst. The music was still blaring as he hit the floor, the loud sound ringing in his ears and doing bad things for the inevitable headache as the back of his skull crashed against a chair leg, missing the pointy edge by just a breath.

Shizuo was already coming closer, the sounds of his curses, roars and promises of murder hard to miss even to someone with a hearing disability. So Izaya forced himself to ignore the pain and the pounding headache, scrambling back to his feet as quickly as he could.

But it was already too late, and the both of them knew it. Shizuo dropped the remainder of his makeshift weapons and dived for him, falling forwards until he caught himself against the wall and trapped the other man in. His hands left a visible dent in the texture, and despite his growling and virtually _outraged_ form breathing down his neck, Izaya couldn't help but admire the unusual display of strength this man possessed.

It was the only thing that deserved his admiration, really.

"Shizu-chan!" he laughed, tilting his head to the side. His red orbs were gleaming playfully, smug, mischievous and all-knowing smile not betraying any of his emotions. "I didn't see you there. Of course, it's a surprise to see such a protozoan as yourself in a place like _this_ but-"

"Don't call me that!" he growled, fist slamming against the wall, dangerously close to his head.

Yet Izaya didn't flinch. "Don't call you what? Shizu-chan? Or protozoan?" He sighed, faking confusion as his brows furrowed. "You're going to have to be more specific, _Shizu-chan."_

Shizuo glared at him, taking in the fact that his longtime rival seemed unusually flustered. He was panting, chest heaving up and down with his lips slightly parted. His face was a little flushed too, though Shizuo couldn't really tell if that was from the chase and excessive amount of running, or if it was a sign of just how much alcohol the little shit had consumed in the last few hours. He himself was feeling a little dizzy from the terrible combination of booze and attempted murder, but the majority of it was overshadowed by the much more controlling emotion called _anger._

Shizuo's broad, large frame covered nearly all of Izaya's much smaller, much compacter body. From certain angles, their position wouldn't look at all like the one was planning the other's death in sixty-three different ways; each one more gruesome and painful than the other.

In fact, it was starting to look like something much, _much_ more inappropriate and it was a good thing that a lot of the guests had decided to clear out because this particular realization brought Izaya a remarkably interesting, and possibly life-threatening, idea.

Well, fuck the risks. Shizuo was going to kill him anyway, and if this distracted him enough for Izaya to make his escape, then he would be getting quite the laugh out of this too.

And blackmail material.

"I'll kill you," growled Shizuo, and Izaya's grin only widened.

"See," he breathed, reaching up to rest a hand on the other's inhumanly firm shoulder. His voice had lowered, dropping near an almost husky level that didn't go missed by Shizuo. He eyed Izaya's hand warily, obviously startled, and the info broker had to fight not to let his laugh slip. "I wouldn't be so sure about that."

With one swift, almost practiced movement, Izaya yanked him closer and molded his lips over Shizuo's own.

Shizuo stumbled back in surprise, but Izaya didn't miss a beat. He kept their lips connected as he walked him backwards, conversing without words as the other slowly started to snap out of his shock and somehow, he'd ended up on one of those incredibly soft sofas a nightclub just _had_ to have.

Izaya momentarily broke apart to climb on, leaving only the littlest of gaps between their lips before using Shizuo's stupor to reattach them to each other.

His legs were clamped tightly around the other's hips, hands cupping his face and holding him in place as he worked his magic. Shizuo's hands started moving, thumbs gliding from his hips up his body till his hands formed a cage around his waist, and Izaya wasn't proud to admit he let out a small moan from mixed surprise and pleasure when the blond only forced him closer and started kissing _back._

His face flushed in both embarrassment and want, and his eyelids fluttered open to stare down at the other man, only to see him already staring up; a challenging gaze burning through his signature purple shades.

Izaya's lips twitched into a smirk, a smirk that quickly vanished when Shizuo's large hands gripped his skin tightly and he forced his tongue in. The added muscle didn't feel as intrusive as Izaya would've thought, it explored his mouth, twirling with his own in a semi-violent dance that mimicked their own _so well_ it should be illegal.

He tasted of alcohol, and Izaya had to remind himself not to gag at the sweet taste that came after. He was going to need a lot of fatty tuna to compensate for this and- _oh._

All thoughts of gagging disappeared when Shizuo broke apart with a devilish grin at his lips. Izaya took in a much needed gulp of air, only to be cut off mid-breath when Shizuo's lips attacked the exposed skin of his neck. His signature jacket had slipped off somewhere during their run, exposing everything his simple black t-shirt couldn't cover.

Shizuo was relentless, he sucked, bit, pulled and kissed at the skin all in one go; covering various spaces as he went. Izaya was sure some of these marks would leave visible bruises, and he was already coming up with ways to cover them up when Shizuo's hands suddenly slid lower and _dear God what was happening?_

This was supposed to be _his_ distraction plan, but suddenly this miniscule-brain had managed to turn the tables around so well it had Izaya flustered and hot and bothered and all kinds of _wrong._

Shizuo sank his teeth into the skin right above Izaya's collar bone, nibbling at the area lightly and he gasped, hands shooting up to rest on the other's chest. "S-Shizu-chan, d-don't-"

Shizuo smirked and lifted his head, reconnecting their lips in another fiery, ultimately inappropriate kiss. All of his earlier surprise and discomfort had disappeared, suddenly taking the dominant role Izaya had planned to keep for himself and he did. Not. Like. It.

But at the same time, he loved it _so much._

It was wrong and sinful and _bad_ and rough and just _Shizuo._

-And he had just pulled away.

The both of them were panting by the time they broke apart, lips kiss-bruised and Shizuo's hair a complete mess from when Izaya had clawed at it in his state of surprised pleasure. The club was still as abandoned as it had been thirty minutes before, and as Shizuo grinned up at him, expression all smug and proud as if he had _won,_ Izaya felt a spark of defiance tugging at his chest.

"Had enough yet, flea?" he taunted, clearly enjoying the frustrated look on his rivals flushed face and the way his eyes narrowed.

Izaya subtly grinded his hips, and Shizuo's breath caught in his throat. "Not by far, Shizu-chan. Not by _far."_

* * *

 _ **What have I done I've turned into a sinner**_

 _ **Dear God, does this still count as T?**_


	2. Chapter 2

**_I, uh...I don't know_**

* * *

 _So, if I got this right, you destroyed an entire club last night?_

"Yeah."

 _While you were supposed to be dealing with only a few people?_

He took a drag from his cigarette. "Mhmm."

 _anD YOU ENDED UP KISSING IZAYA?!_

He blew out the smoke, watching as it molded itself into various shapes before eventually disappearing into thin air. Cocking a brow, he muttered, "Are the caps supposed to mean you're yelling?"

Celty's shoulders dropped, her arms crossed over her leather-clad chest and if she'd had a head, Shizuo could just imagine her shaking it and rolling her eyes in annoyance. But, to be fair, he _was_ being a little difficult.

Izaya's bold promise the night before had only been delayed by a certain headless rider showing up out of nowhere. Apparently, she'd been chasing some guy a lot of people had been giving reports about, driving past the nightclub as she did so; and after witnessing its utter state of disarray, she'd decided going in to check on him would be the best course of action for now.

Though she couldn't say she'd expected finding two bordering-on-drunk men, nor could she say she'd ever expected a certain troublesome info broker straddling her borderline superhuman friend with anger issues' lap. It had certainly been a rather... _interesting_ sight, finding the two of them in such a compromising position with their faces a little more than flushed from something Celty _really_ didn't feel like thinking about. She was sure that if she'd been born normal - and maybe she had, she wouldn't know - even _she'd_ have been blushing from walking in on such an imposing view.

While Shizuo had surprisingly enough found the decency to feel at least a _little_ bit bashful at being caught in the act with his sworn enemy; Izaya handled the situation like a pro. He'd greeted the dullahan in his usual manner - cheerful, smug, a little intruding - and hadn't even bothered to climb off Shizuo's lap or cover the bruises already forming at his neck. Sure, he'd sported a lot of Shizuo-induced injuries over the years with pride, but kiss-marks still fell in a different category altogether. In the end, it took the bartender-clad blond shoving him off himself before Izaya got the hint and made the smallest effort of fetching his discarded signature coat and throwing it on as if the entire situation was as normal as it could get. He'd parted with a lot of teasing and suggestive innuendos Celty would _not_ like to repeat - or ever hear again - for the time being. Along with a reminder of his apparent 'promise,' but Celty hadn't been there long enough to hear of it and Shizuo refused to tell.

Oddly enough, when Shinra heard about the news; he'd been utterly delighted. She'd only watched with astonishment as he pranced around singing and chiming about how he'd been waiting for this day and that it'd gone better than expected and Celty was sure that if she'd had brows, they'd have been raised. But then again, Shinra was Shinra, and she should know by now to always expect the weirdest things coming from him. He probably saw a blooming friendship in this whole ordeal, yet Celty could only see this leading to an unhealthy yet weirdly _healthy_ relationship blossoming between the two most dangerous men of Ikebukuro.

If anyone could make such a contradiction work; then it had to be those two.

She stared at him through her helmet, small hints of black smoke protruding around her but hardly visible in the darkness of the shadows. She let her fingers skim over the keys, tapping in a quick response before shoving the device in the much taller man's face. He stared at it, reading through the message twice while simultaneously lifting his cigarette to his lips for another drag. Celty couldn't help her burning curiosity as he stayed silent for much longer than she'd expected him to. Usually, answering this question would've been such an easy task for him, yet his slight hesitation spoke more than enough.

 _I thought you hated him?_

"I did," he finally answered, after about his third drag of the cigarette, before correcting, "I do."

She pulled back, another three- four quick taps of her fingers on the keyboard, shoved it in his face again. _But?_

"But _nothing."_

 _You seem unusually calm._

Shizuo only grunted.

Her shoulders dropped in what he assumed to be a sigh, and he averted his gaze, focusing on the dark night sky instead of on the intriguing creature standing right beside him. He knew Celty was only looking out for him- Izaya was trouble, no doubting that. Shizuo hated the flea, no doubting that either.

And yet, the events of the day before wouldn't leave him. From his entrance, to smashing up the double doors, to chasing and catching the bastard, and finally to their, ahem, _moment_ on the way too soft to be natural sofa. His parting words wouldn't shake him either, because knowing the fucker, he'd go through with every single syllable of that promise.

Shizuo wasn't worried or put off in the slightest, something which - ironically - should have worried him to no end.

Orihara Izaya, one of Ikebukuro's- and maybe even Japan's -most well-known men and possibly it's best info broker. He was known for his heavily proclaimed love for humans, a type of love that only ended with the broken souls and hearts of said humans because of his endless and cruel toying with their emotions. Toying that occasionally took lives too.

Shizuo shuddered to think he was now one of those.

He scoffed and crushed the cigarette between his fingertips, flinging it away without another second thought. He knew Celty was still watching him curiously, and he schooled his features accordingly to hide his impending anger. The thought alone of the fleabag gaining _some_ sort of control over him had him raging, and, while she had grown used to it, showing that to Celty right now would only worry her more. Too much and she might just do something stupid like seeking out the bastard- if he didn't find her first, that was.

Celty slipped her phone into her sleeve, before thinking twice about it and swiftly slipping it back into her hands. Shizuo watched as she typed, practiced fingers flying over the letters so quickly he was starting to wonder if her kind didn't secretly have some sort of super-speed and she just didn't remember.

 _Shinra said you two always had a, uh, 'chance'._

Shizuo scrunged his nose up in barely contained, most likely faked, disgust. "Shinra says a lot of things."

She shrugged, helmet tilted in a thoughtful manner and Shizuo knew he'd be having this conversation with her _a lot_ for the following week.

* * *

Izaya toyed with the pocket knife in his hands, lazily flipping it open before closing it again. He repeated this process a couple of times, his feet lightly kicking at his desk in order to spin his turn-chair in circles. He flipped open the blade again, a glimpse of purple catching his eye in its reflection and he barely suppressed a smirk, free hand reaching towards the bruise on his neck and gently poking at it. He flinched as the sting hit him, even from such a gentle touch. That violent brute really had done a number on him, huh?

With a sigh, Izaya carelessly tossed the blade onto his desk, throwing his head back against the chair as he stared at the ceiling. Heiwajima Shizuo; his favorite toy to mess with for as long as he could remember. He was difficult to deal with, crossing the border that separated man from beast by _far,_ and that alone made him more than just a simple plaything. So different from his sophisticated, quiet idol brother, though Izaya knew he was the absolute _last_ person allowed to go comparing people to their siblings.

And yet he couldn't help but wonder what had made the protozoan so different, what had made him stand out so much. Izaya knew that he probably played a part in it too. After all, if it hadn't been for him, he didn't have a single doubt that Shizuo would've been significantly calmer than he was now. Still violent, still overkill, but a little calmer nonetheless.

Significantly less fun or interesting though.

Boredom hit him soon enough, and after a quick check to see if anyone was online in the chat and only finding disappointing results; Izaya decided that he couldn't sit still any longer. He was bored and looking for a thrill.

A thrill he would always be able to find with a certain person.

* * *

Breaking into the small apartment was so easy it was almost child's play, and to be honest, Izaya was a bit disappointed- if not insulted. He'd expected much more from his longtime rival, though to be fair, the blond probably hadn't expected anyone to be stupid or suicidal enough to try and break into _his_ living quarters.

Then again, he should've known by now; Izaya didn't fit into the regular status quo.

With a smirk that was all kinds of devilish, Izaya clasped his hands behind his back and strolled through the place; curiously watching the interior. He took in as much information as he could, stopping only to stare and commit something to memory before moving on and tucking whatever interesting thing he'd just found away in a mental folder appropriately labeled _Shizuo._ The 'folder' had been stuffed with interesting, helpful, or simply little facts that he'd collected over their shared years, and even to this day, Izaya made sure to keep it regularly updated. For the sake of his own life, of course, but also just for fun. 'What things is Shizu-chan capable of today?' had become one of his favorite games to play, to no one's surprise.

He heard the door creak open; of course he'd heard. The heavy, overwhelming scent of nicotine wasn't making him any more discreet either. It wouldn't be any fun though if he didn't act at least a little surprised, so he pretended to be so enamoured and captivated by his thoughts that he didn't notice the large form sneaking up behind him, or that he'd entered the apartment at all.

Of course, if Shizuo had any brains of his own, he would've noticed the fraud immediately. Izaya was never _not_ aware of something.

He was betting on him knowing that. And he wouldn't be disappointed either.

"What the hell are you doing here, flea?" Came the gruff, muffled voice from behind, sounding all calm and collected, but if the sounds of metal material crushing was anything to go by, his careless façade would be cracking soon enough.

Izaya jumped, faking surprise as he turned around and, sure enough, the metal frame of the couch right next to Shizuo had a hand-shaped dent in it.

 _Interesting._

"Shizu-chan!" Izaya cried, smile all bright and innocent and cheerful and _fake._ "I didn't hear you come in! I thought I'd pay you a quick visit, but no one was home so I just came in. You don't mind, do you?"

Shizuo snorted, taking the lit cigarette from between his lips. "Like hell you did."

"Now, Shizu-chan, don't be like that." he pouted, his hands clasped together behind his back as he took a small step closer; relishing in the way the brute immediately put all his guards up. Izaya tilted his head sideways, freakishly innocent smile still framing his features, though his eyes told otherwise. They were predatory, almost hungry, and it didn't take a genius to tell he was up to something. Something that would most likely end up badly for the blond in front of him.

But then again, that sort of thing happened _daily_ in this damned city.

Shizuo glared at him, his composed mask finally cracking, and Izaya smirked. "Leave," he growled, fists clenching. "I don't have time for your bullshit today, flea."

"My, my, Shizu-chan, is this how you treat all your guests?"

"If they're unwanted, yeah."

"You're breaking my heart."

"I can do a lot more than break _just_ your heart," he threatened, and while that line would've sent most people cowering and fearing for their lives; Izaya's smirk only widened.

"Oh?" he prompted, taking another, obviously unwelcome, step closer. Shizuo remained a statue, not daring to back down. As if he ever could. "Like what?"

"Break your bones, tear out your arms, crush your skull, _kill_ yo-"

Izaya sighed. "So violent," he mused, shaking his head in mock-disappointment, his red eyes twinkling with mischief. "I was actually thinking more along the lines of, say, yesterday?"

Shizuo stiffened, the action just barely noticeable, but Izaya caught on. _There it was._ The reaction he'd been waiting for all night.

"As if," Shizuo grunted, crushing the butt of the cigarette in-between his fingers.

"Don't pretend like you didn't like it," another step closer. Their chests were almost touching now, and Izaya had to crane his neck to meet the blond's eyes. "If I recall, _you_ were the one who marked my skin."

Shizuo's eyes briefly cast down, locking on the poorly disguised - in other words, not disguised at all - angry bruises and blemishes covering the info-broker's entire neck. Feigning indifference, he shrugged and turned his head the other way as a 'strategic' way of avoiding the other's eyes. "I was drunk," he reasoned. "A lot can happen when under influence."

"You're _ly-ying,"_ sang Izaya, eyes turning lidded.

"Says who?"

His hand snaked around the other's wrist, mischievous smirk giving away everything he was thinking at the moment. "Me," he answered lowly, voice barely above a whisper. And before Shizuo could make a move to pull away, Izaya yanked him down.

He stiffened, and Izaya happily noted the fact that this was the second time in a row that he had managed to catch this brute of a man off guard so easily. Or so he thought.

In reality, Shizuo wouldn't be backing down so quickly.

Taking an 'accidental' step back out of 'surprise', Shizuo send the both of them falling on the couch, twisting his body at the last second and flipping them over so that Izaya could do nothing other than accept the fact he was lying flat on his back now. Catching himself before he could fall, Shizuo hovered over him, eyes glinting dangerously behind his purple sunglasses and being quick to snatch the other's wrists in his hand. He brought his knee up between Izaya's legs, and dived in.

He'd heard the flea gasp on his way down, and as his lips and tongue worked their way over the sensitive skin of his bruised neck, the sounds only kept on increasing. And for one reason or another, Shizuo just couldn't _get enough of it._ It was addictive, just as - if not more - intoxicating as the Henny's and JD's* he'd thrown back the night before, the exact ones that had been the cause of this whole mess. Only this time, there was no alcohol in the equation. This time the both of them were completely sober and fully aware of what they were doing right now. As for _why,_ they didn't know.

Well, Shizuo didn't. Izaya probably did because the fucker was just aware of _everything_ that was going on in this damned city and he probably had some sort of sick, twisted reason for riling him up like this but that was besides the point. The only explanation Shizuo could give was that he was - believe it or not - still pissed at the flea. And if this was a way to safely let his anger out without accidentally destroying six buildings in a row; then so be it.

That, and the fact that his own pride was on the line too because _motherfucker_ he would _not_ be losing to this fucking pest anytime soon. He'd just get a kick out of it and use it against him for as long as he had yet to live. Maybe even longer than that.

Shizuo bit down on one of the blatant bruises, earning a yell of pleasured pain and in return, Izaya ripped his hands from his grip and slipped them underneath the other's shirt, teasingly running his fingernails across the skin; coming dangerously close to the edge of his waistband. And, judging by the telling smirk and spark in his eyes, he knew full well just what he was doing.

And of course he did! He was fully aware of every move he made, every scenario that could play out, and had already predicted every move Shizuo would make. It was who he _was._ It was what _defined_ him. The name Orihara Izaya would mean nothing if it weren't for those qualities.

Besides, his actions were in the name of payback too. The way Shizuo bit and pulled with his teeth was beastly. Animalistic. It proved every statement or insult Izaya had thrown at him over the years, and the info dealer wasn't sure if he loved or hated it. Or, to be more precise, if he loved or hated the way he actually enjoyed it.

The bartender-clad blond pulled back, shooting the man a dangerous glare that would have most people running, but only served to widen Izaya's smirk. "Come on, Shizu-chan," he purred, forcing himself not to flinch at the pain as he craned his neck sideways, just a little. Underneath the other's shirt, his hands just kept trailing lower, lower, lower, lower...never breaking eye contact, even when his fingers reached the material of his belt. Provoking. Challenging. "That isn't all you've got, is it?" He dug his nails into the skin, relishing in the way Shizuo stiffened, the littlest of gasps leaving him. "I must say, I'm disappointed."

Snorting, Shizuo moved the hand that wasn't supporting his weight over Izaya's head, resting it on the couch's armrest and paying no mind to the crushing sounds that followed; the metal frame giving way to the added pressure. "Shut up, flea." he growled, looking down at his smirking form behind purple shades. "You don't even know half of it."

"That's the excuse you're going for?" Izaya sighed, feigning disappointment as he turned his head to the side- once again masking the pain. "Such a was- _ah!"_

Shizuo's leg had pushed upwards, not too much, just a little, but enough to make a difference. The body part was dangerously close to the other's lower region, yet not quite touching and it drove him _crazy._

"S-Shizu-chan, what are y-you-"

He smirked. "Showing you what I'm capable of."

Izaya's eyes twinkled, morphing into a glare as he stared up at the brute. The hands that had previously been teasing the skin above his V-line slid down and out of his shirt, reaching upwards for his collar instead and pulling him down. Lips almost touching, he made sure to maintain eye contact as he whispered, "I don't think so." And, in one swift movement, yanked himself up until he was straddling the boorish man and forced him down on his back; effectively switching their positions. He leaned down, capturing him in a liplock that involved an undisclosed amount of tongue while his fingers worked on the buttons of his vest and shirt. Shizuo played along, allowing the slight display of control because frankly, that was what their whole relationship was about. There was never a time where one had the upper hand on the other; and if there was, it wouldn't be lasting long.

"You know, Shizu-chan," he murmured, voice dropping low as he pulled away and focused on his fingers undoing the buttons. He straightened, still straddling the other but with an almost refined form and Shizuo couldn't help but roll his eyes. Leave it to him to show _some_ sort of superior class, even in moments like these.

Finally, the last button popped and he continued. "I think you're getting ahead of yourself."

Shizuo snorted. "Says the guy undressing me."

Izaya ignored him, instead opting for a quick, teasing kiss and nibbling at his lower lip before pulling back and moving downwards. Trailing kisses down his jaw, his chin, his neck, his chest. Each kiss getting more daring and bold than the previous one, his tongue slipping out on occasion as he explored his bare chest, moving down, down, down, down...

He stopped, tongue momentarily dipping into the covered V that had the brute below him writhing for so short a moment he had to repeat the action to confirm it. If the numerous curses and death threats were anything to go by; he'd say he'd succeeded pretty damn well. "I think," he continued, wiping his mouth with the back of his fist as the other hand worked on undoing the belt. "We need to put a stop to that."

"Fuck off," he grunted, the rapid rise and fall of his chest becoming heavier by the minute. "I'll- _f-fuck -_ kill you."

Izaya winked, slipped the belt out of its loops, and popped open the button of his jeans. "We'll just have to see, won't we?"

* * *

 ** _*Hennessey and Jack Daniels, if you hadn't realized._**

 ** _*chants* please let this still be T please let this still be T_**

 ** _Okay, I wasn't planning on adding to this, but I have no self-control and it happened anyway. It's done for real now though._**

 ** _Hope you enjoyed!_**

 ** _(please forgive my sin)_**


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